Misfits
by LM Simpson
Summary: oneshot The beginning of a beautiful relationship.


**Title: **Misfits

**Author: **LM Simpson (Kady the Red Panda)

**Pairing(s): **None

**Rating: **K

**Warning(s): **None

**Disclaimer: **If I was getting money off these, I wouldn't be on fanfiction dot net. Seriously. Let me enjoy my hobby, m'kay?

**Other tidbits: **If this was a comic book, I would have had a collage of Snowy and Tintin good times right after the last line.

0000

The auburn haired housewife spread the white panel curtains apart to welcome the morning sunshine in. To her pleasant surprise the weatherman was wrong—instead of thunderstorms the late summer day brought blue skies, cotton white clouds, and lemon yellow sun. Why, it would be a wonderful day for children to play…

"Augustin," the woman said, still looking out the window, "We're having such beautiful weather today! Why don't you go outside and play with the other boys?"

Her seven year old son curled himself up into an old, overstuffed, floral printed armchair. He drew the children's novel he was reading closer to his face, until the pages touched the sides of his nose.

"Uh… No thank you Mother," he said, "I'm fine right here."

The woman turned and looked at her son. The only parts of him she could see were his little loafer covered feet, his little hands clutching the book, and the head of red hair he inherited from her.

"Now, my little boy, I feel that it's best for you to go outside and play."

"But Mother, I'm _reading_—" The boy showed his mother the cover to the latest _Rin Tin Tin _novel—"Isn't that better than watching TV or listening to the radio all day?"

She sighed. "Yes, but you can read all you want once school starts, Augustin. School starts in a week, dear—go outside and have fun with your friends!"

The book landed closed on his little lap.

"…"

"…Augustin?..."

"Mother… I don't have any friends."

"…What do you mean, dear?"

"No one wants to play with me. They _hate _me, Mother."

"_Hate_ you?" The incredulous mother said. "How could they ever hate you?"

The boy struggled to not cry. "They make fun of my hair… They tell me that I can't play with them because they will get my ginger germs. And they tell me I look like an idiot with this stupid cowlick—" He tried to flatten his quiff with his hand, only to have it pop right back up. He sighed in defeat as he continued, "And they say that books are for goobers. They all try to rip the pages out of my books and smash them into the mud if they catch me with one.

"Mother, why do I have to be so, so… _different_?"

The mother advanced to her son as quickly as she could with high heels on. Both of their faces were bright red as she squatted down and hugged her child.

"My sweet, precious Tintin," she whispered, "You're not different in a bad way… You're _special. _The other boys are just jealous because they know they aren't as special as you. I feel that you are going to do amazing things with your life—I just know that you will! While they work away at the farms or factories, you will be a star!"

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, shook his red hair about. He giggled.

"Thanks, Mother… But I still don't have any friends…"

The mother attempted to think up a solution. True, her son needed a friend… But did it need to be with a human child?

"Didn't Mister Yves's dog have puppies awhile ago, Augustin?"

"Yes… Why do you ask, Mother?"

"Well, I would like to know… Do you believe that you are old enough to take care of a dog, my child?"

"A dog? Of my own?" He began to realize what his mother was going at. "Mother, I'm _seven_—I'm a big boy! I would have no problem taking care of a dog! I'll wash it, and walk it, and play with it! Yes, I want a dog!"

She just had to giggle. "The litter should be old enough to be adopted by now. Come on, dear! Let's go to Mister Yves's farm! Even if they are too young to leave their mother just now, we can always reserve one!"

0000

"Are you sure you want me to stay here, Augustin?" The mother asked after the twenty minute drive, when they arrived at the outskirts of the farmhouse. There was a cardboard sign by the dented mailbox that read, in shaken letters, "Puppies for sale."

"Yes! Then it will be a surprise for you!" He grinned as he hopped up and down in his seat behind her.

"Alright, then," she said, "But if you're in there for more than ten minutes, I'm going to go look for you…

"Oh! And I hope this will be enough…"

She fished her wallet from her stretched leather purse and took out several bills, plus some coins. She handed her child the money before he left the car and skipped towards the farmhouse.

Tintin knocked on the door. He waited patiently as he heard faint footsteps on the other side. He was so excited when the bald, toothless, and thick framed glasses wearing Mister Yves opened it, that he almost forgot his manners.

Mister Yves removed his pipe from his gums and adjusted his jean overall straps. "Why hello there, Tintin! What brought you here to my doorstep today?"

"Good morning, Mister Yves! Mother said that I could get a puppy! Do you still have any puppies left for sale?"

The old farmer inhaled and cocked his head to the side. "I'm afraid they were all taken already…"

Tintin could swear that even his quiff drooped with despair. "R-really?"

"Well, all of the _good_ ones, at least. All I have left is the runt. No one ever really wants the runt, y'know…"

"…_I _want the runt."

The farmer cocked what was left of his nearly hairless eyebrow. "Are you sure, boy? It's always harder to take care of the littlest ones. They just become a burden in the long run."

"They only become burdens if you don't give them _love_," Tintin declared. "And I know I'll give that runt all the love it could ever want, because… that's all I really want myself is to have something give me all the love I could ever want…"

Mister Yves was shocked at how wise the boy sounded for a seven year old. Then again, it was _Tintin _he was referring to…

He scratched a liver spot on the very top of his head. "Alright, I'll let you have him, my boy… I'll be right back…"

When the farmer returned, there was a larger than average lump in his left hip pocket. The whimpering, moving blob popped its tiny puppy head out of the pocket right before Mister Yves got to the door pane.

Tintin opened his arms wide and smiled as the farmer scooped the little pure white terrier puppy out of the pocket. When the puppy whimpered once Tintin first held him like a mother holding her newborn child, he said, "It's alright, puppy! I'm not going to hurt you, ever!"

Then, Tintin remembered something: "Oh, how much do you w—"

Mister Yves waved his hand in front of him to signal "no." "Oh no, I'll give you him for free. I feel I can trust him with you. Good luck, my boy; pet ownership isn't always the easiest job in the world. Have a good day!"

As Tintin trekked down the dirt road towards the car, he began to sing a song that he would never sing under normal circumstances (it _was _a nursery rhyme, after all), but thought was relevant to his situation:

"Tintin had a little dog, little dog, little dog, Tintin had a little dog whose fur was white as snow—"

He stopped. "Wait…" He looked at his slumbering new pet, whose fur was really, really white, like fresh snow. "That's perfect! Puppy, your name from now on is going to be Snowy! We're going to have so many wonderful adventures together!"

Tintin resumed walking and singing:

"And everywhere that Tintin went, Tintin went, Tintin went, everywhere that Tintin went the dog was sure to go…"


End file.
